"Jesus Christ, it's like a sauna in here." Ben wiped sweat from his brow with the back of his hand, glaring at the silent HVAC unit like it had personally betrayed him. The air was thick, unmoving, pressing against his skin like a damp blanket. He'd given up on clothes an hour ago. What was the point when even his boxers were soaked through?
The doorbell buzzed, sharp and insistent. Ben padded across the hardwood, his bare feet sticking slightly with each step. Through the peephole, he saw a guy in a wrinkled gray work shirt, the name tag reading *Mac*, a toolbox hanging heavy in one hand. Ben unlocked the chain and swung the door wide, not even thinking about his nudity until Mac's eyebrows shot up. "Uh," Mac said, eyes darting down then back up, lingering on Ben's shoulders. "Hot enough for ya?"
Ben snorted, stepping aside to let him in. "The HVAC crapped out. The windows are sealed shut. You tell me."
Mac whistled low, wiping his forehead with his sleeve. Even in the dim light, sweat darkened his shirt under the arms, clung to the hollow of his throat. "Christ, yeah. Feels like a fuckin’ boiler room." He set the toolbox down with a clunk, hands going to his belt. "Mind if I...?" He jerked his chin at Ben’s bare skin.
Ben shrugged, folding his arms—partly to show off his biceps, partly to keep his hands from doing something stupid. "Be my guest."
Mac didn't waste time. His boots hit the floor with two solid thuds, fingers already working the buttons of his overalls. The fabric peeled away like a second skin, revealing shoulders broad enough to bench press a small car and a chest dusted with salt-and-pepper hair. The real surprise came when he shucked the overalls down his hips, stepping free without a shred of hesitation. No underwear. Just thick, veined thighs and a heavy cock already twitching against his stomach.
Ben’s mouth went dry. His own erection surged, the tip glistening under the apartment’s yellowed light. Mac grinned, slow and knowing, as he wiped sweat from his sternum. "Been a while since I saw another guy built like me," he rumbled, stepping closer. The heat between them wasn’t just from the broken AC anymore.
Ben’s pulse hammered in his throat. He reached out before he could second-guess it, his calloused fingers skimming the dense curves of Mac’s pectorals. The man exhaled sharply, his muscles flexing under Ben’s touch. "Damn," Mac muttered, his own hands settling on Ben’s waist, thumbs digging into the ridges of his hips. "You’re solid as a fucking oak."
The scent of sweat and musk coiled between them, sharp and primal. Ben could feel Mac’s cock pressing against his thigh, hot as a brand. He didn’t remember stepping closer, but suddenly there was no space left, just skin and breath and the slick slide of sweat where their bodies met. Mac’s grip tightened, hauling Ben flush against him with a grunt—chest to chest, their erections trapped between them, leaking against each other’s abdomens.
Ben’s hands rode up Mac’s back, tracing the valleys between slabs of muscle. The man was built like a brick shithouse, every ridge and dip hard-earned. He could feel Mac’s heartbeat where their torsos pressed together, rapid and thundering.
“Bedroom,” Ben growled against his mouth, nipping at his lower lip. Mac didn’t need telling twice. He grabbed Ben’s ass with both hands, hoisting him up like he weighed nothing, and Ben wrapped his legs around Mac’s waist instinctively. The walk was clumsy—Mac’s knees bumping the doorframe, Ben’s back scraping the hallway wall—but neither cared.
The mattress groaned under their combined weight. Mac rolled them, pinning Ben beneath him, his thick thighs straddling Ben’s hips. Sweat dripped from Mac’s chest onto Ben’s collarbones, sliding down in rivulets. “Christ, look at you,” Mac muttered, palming Ben’s pecs, thumbs circling his nipples until they peaked. Ben arched into it, his cock throbbing against Mac’s abdomen.
Mac leaned down, dragging his open mouth along Ben’s neck, his stubble rough against sensitive skin. The scrape of it sent sparks down Ben’s spine—no pain, just the raw, electric friction of contact. He grabbed Mac’s ass, kneading the dense muscle there, and Mac groaned into his shoulder. “Yeah, fuck,” Mac panted, rutting against him, their cocks sliding together in the slick mess of sweat and precum.
Ben twisted, rolling them sideways so he could get a hand between their bodies. His grip was tight around both of them, pumping slow at first, then faster as Mac’s hips jerked into the touch. The heat was unbearable in the best way—their bodies sticky, the air thick with the smell of exertion and sex. Mac’s forehead dropped onto Ben’s shoulder, his breath ragged against Ben’s skin. “Goddamn,” he muttered, voice wrecked. “You feel—”
The rest dissolved into a groan as Ben tightened his fist, twisting his wrist just right. Mac’s entire body tensed, his biceps bulging as he braced himself over Ben, thighs trembling. Ben could feel the pulse of Mac’s cock against his palm, the way his stomach muscles clenched like he was holding back. “Don’t,” Ben rasped, dragging his teeth along Mac’s jaw. “Let go.”
Mac’s breath hitched. Then he was shuddering, his hips stuttering forward as his jetting sperm painted Ben’s fist and their stomachs in thick stripes. The sight of it—Mac’s head thrown back, tendons in his neck standing out, his cock twitching in Ben’s grip—was enough to push Ben over the edge. He came with a choked curse, his back bowing off the mattress as pleasure crackled through him like a live wire.
For a moment, the only sound was their ragged breathing and the distant hum of city traffic through the walls. Mac collapsed half on top of Ben, his sweat-slick chest heaving against Ben’s. “Jesus,” Mac panted, his voice gravel. “That was—” He broke off, shaking his head. His fingertips trailed absently through the mess on Ben’s stomach, smearing it across the grooves of his abs.
Ben chuckled, the sound rough in his throat. His hands were still on Mac’s back, fingers tracing the knotted muscles there. “You’re heavier than you look,” he muttered, though he made no move to push Mac off. The weight was solid, grounding—a reminder of the body still pressed against his.
Mac lifted his head just enough to smirk. “Yeah, well. You’re welcome.” His breath was warm against Ben’s collarbone. He shifted slightly, their softening cocks brushing, sticky with drying sweat and cum. Neither flinched away. Mac’s fingers trailed lower, circling Ben’s navel absently. “HVAC’s still busted,” he murmured.
Ben snorted. “No shit.” The air hadn’t magically cooled, but the heat felt different now—thick and drowsy instead of oppressive. He stretched beneath Mac, relishing the ache in his thighs and the way Mac’s stubble scratched his shoulder when the man turned his head.
Mac’s fingers traced idle patterns through the mess on Ben’s stomach, smearing it further. “Could take a look at it now,” he offered, though his voice lacked conviction. His thumb brushed Ben’s nipple, slow and deliberate. “Or.”
Ben grunted, lifting a knee to nudge Mac’s thigh apart. The movement made Mac’s softening cock twitch against Ben’s hip. “Or?” Ben echoed, voice rough. His palm slid down Mac’s spine, lingering at the small of his back where sweat pooled in the dip. The sheets beneath them were damp, sticking to their skin in patches, but neither had the energy to move.
Mac exhaled through his nose, warm breath fanning across Ben’s chest. “Or,” he murmured, dragging his teeth over Ben’s pec, “we could see how many times that bedframe can take a beating before the neighbors complain.” His hand slid lower, fingers curling possessively around Ben’s thigh, kneading the dense muscle there.
Ben’s cock gave a traitorous twitch against Mac’s hip. He could already feel the ghost of Mac’s weight between his legs, the way those tree-trunk arms had pinned him effortlessly. “The HVAC can wait,” he conceded, tilting his head to catch Mac’s mouth in a lazy kiss. Their lips were chapped, tongues still tasting of salt and exhaustion. Mac hummed into it, his hips rolling forward in a slow, filthy grind that had Ben groaning.
The second round was slower, molten—less frantic desperation and more like two men relearning each other’s bodies. Mac flipped them with a grunt, letting Ben ride him this time, their sweat-slick chests sliding together as Ben braced his hands on Mac’s shoulders. The man beneath him was a furnace, his breath hot against Ben’s throat every time he arched up to meet Ben’s thrusts. The bedframe creaked a protest, but neither cared; the sound was lost under Mac’s ragged curses and the wet slap of skin on skin.
Ben’s thighs burned, his muscles trembling with the effort of holding himself up, but he refused to slow down. Not when Mac’s blunt fingers were digging into his hips hard enough to bruise, not when the man’s teeth were scoring a path along his collarbone. Mac’s cock hit Ben's prostate with every roll of his hips, dragging a broken noise from Ben’s throat. “Fuck,” Ben gasped, his voice shattered. “You’re—Christ—”
Mac’s chuckle was a rasp against his skin. “Yeah?” He shifted beneath Ben, lifting his hips to drive deeper, and Ben’s vision whited out for a second. His hands slipped on Mac’s sweat-slick shoulders, his fingers pressing in reflexively. Mac groaned, his head thudding back against the mattress, his throat working as he swallowed. “Fuck, Ben—just like that—”
The air smelled like sex and scorching heat, the sheets tangled around their legs, sticking where sweat had pooled. Ben rocked into it, the drag of Mac inside him almost too much, his own cock trapped between their bodies, leaking against Mac’s muscled midriff with every movement. He could feel the moment Mac unraveled—his thighs tensing, his grip on Ben’s hips turning brutal—before the man cursed and shot his sperm inside him with a shudder that rolled through both of them.
Ben followed seconds later, his orgasm punching the breath from his lungs as he spilled his potent semen between their bodies, his fingers digging into Mac’s shoulders hard enough to leave marks. For a long moment, neither moved, their panting breaths syncing in the heavy air.
Eventually, Mac’s hands slid up Ben’s sweat-slick back, slow and appreciative. "Fuck," he muttered, voice thick. "You’ve got the grip strength of a bear trap." Ben chuckled, rolling off to collapse beside him, their shoulders pressing together. The ceiling fan above them spun uselessly, stirring the humid air but doing little to cool their overheated skin.
Mac sighed, dragging a palm down his face before propping himself up on one elbow. "Guess I better look at that HVAC now," he said, though his legs didn’t seem eager to move. He kissed Ben, quick and dirty, before swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. The mattress creaked in relief as his weight left it.
Ben watched Mac’s back muscles ripple as he stood—the man moved like a grizzly bear, all deliberate, heavy motion. His ass was still glistening with sweat, the back of his thighs smeared with their mess. Barefoot and naked, Mac shuffled toward the hallway, his steps slow like a man walking to the gallows. The overhead light caught the sheen of sweat along his spine, the dusting of gray hair at the base of his neck. "You coming?" he called over his shoulder, scratching his stomach absently.
Ben levered himself up with a grunt, his muscles protesting. The hardwood was cool under his feet after the heat of the bed. He followed, pausing in the doorway to lean against the frame, arms crossed. Mac was already crouched by the HVAC unit, his thick fingers prying open the front panel with practiced ease. The metal squeaked in protest, revealing a tangle of wires and dust-coated components. Mac whistled low. "Yeah, no shit this thing quit," he muttered, his biceps flexing as he yanked something loose. "Capacitor’s fried. It's probably been running nonstop in this heat."
"Can it be fixed?" Ben asked, though he already knew the answer from the grease-streaked frown on Mac’s face.
Mac tossed the charred capacitor onto the floor with a clatter. "Not worth it. Time for a new one." He wiped his hands on his thighs, smearing dust and sweat. "Guess you’ll have to call the landlord."
Ben groaned, scrubbing a hand down his face. The sweat pooling at the small of his back was going to ruin the mattress if they didn’t do something soon. "I sure as hell can’t stay here in this heat waiting for that lazy bastard to move his fat ass."
Mac snorted, stretching his arms overhead with a cascade of spine pops. "Tell you what," he said, bending to scoop his crumpled overalls off the floor. He shook them out like a dishtowel, sending dust motes swirling in the stagnant air. "Lemme make a call." He dug a phone from the pocket, thumbs flying over the screen. Ben watched the way his forearms flexed, the veins standing out like topography.
The phone rang twice before someone picked up. "Yeah, Lou? It’s Mac." He paused, sucking his teeth. "Nah, not till Tuesday? Fuck that." A beat. Mac’s grin was slow, dangerous. "Tell you what—you send the new unit to Murphy’s place on 5th today, I’ll knock fifty off the Davenport job." Another pause. Mac winked at Ben over his shoulder. "Attaboy."
Ben arched an eyebrow. Mac tossed the phone onto the couch and stretched, his spine popping audibly. "Unit’ll be here by three," he said, scratching his belly absently. His thick fingers left faint red trails in the sweat-slick hair. "Till then—" His eyes raked down Ben’s body, lingering where Ben’s cock was already thickening again against his thigh. "—we could kill time."
The air between them crackled. Ben stepped forward, closing the distance in two strides, and caught Mac’s wrist mid-scratch. "You’re filthy," he muttered, dragging Mac’s palm down his own chest, smearing dust and sweat across his pecs. Mac’s breath hitched when Ben guided his hand lower, over the swell of his abs, down to—
"Christ," Mac growled, his fingers closing reflexively around Ben’s hardening cock. His thumb swiped over the head, spreading precum in a glistening streak. "You recover fast." His grip tightened, his other hand coming up to palm Ben’s ass, pulling him flush against his own thickening erection. The dust from the HVAC unit clung to their sweat-slick skin, grit catching between their bodies as they ground together.
Ben hissed at the friction, his hips jerking forward. "Shower," he managed, nodding toward the bathroom door. The thought of cool water sluicing over their overheated bodies was almost as enticing as Mac’s hands on him. Almost.
Mac chuckled, low and rough, his grip tightening briefly before letting go. "Lead the way." He swatted Ben’s ass as he turned, the smack echoing off the bare walls. Ben shot him a look over his shoulder—half warning, half promise—before striding down the short hallway, his bare feet padding against the hardwood.
The bathroom was cramped, the tiles cool underfoot. Ben twisted the shower knob, the pipes groaning before a lukewarm spray sputtered from the showerhead. Mac crowded in behind him, his chest pressing against Ben’s back, his hands sliding around Ben’s waist to palm his cock again. "I'm not gonna last long if you keep that up," Ben muttered, though he arched into the touch.
Mac chuckled, his breath hot against Ben’s neck. "Good." He nipped at Ben’s earlobe before stepping under the spray, dragging Ben with him. The water hit Mac first, sluicing down his broad shoulders, darkening the hair on his chest to a slicked-down pelt. Ben watched, entranced, as droplets caught in the grooves between Mac’s abs before vanishing into the thicker trail leading south.
The showerhead sputtered, coughing out a burst of cold water that made them both hiss. Mac cursed, twisting the knob with more force than necessary. “Fucking building,” he muttered, but the complaint died in his throat when Ben crowded him back against the tiles, their bodies slotting together like puzzle pieces. The porcelain was cool against Mac’s back, a stark contrast to the heat radiating off both of them.
Ben’s hands mapped Mac’s body with rough familiarity—the swell of his pecs, the tight furl of his nipples under calloused fingertips, the way his abdominal muscles jumped when Ben’s nails scraped down the trail of hair below his navel. Water sluiced between them, carrying away sweat and dust in rivulets that swirled down the drain. Mac’s cock was already half-hard again, bobbing against Ben’s thigh as they shifted under the spray.
“Still warm,” Mac muttered against Ben’s temple, his voice graveled. His fingers dug into Ben’s hips, thumbs pressing bruises into the bone. The showerhead sputtered again, sending a cold splash across their shoulders, but neither flinched. Ben’s breath hitched when Mac’s knee nudged his thighs apart, the movement deliberate.
The tiles were slick under Ben’s palms as he braced himself, water dripping from his lashes. Mac’s mouth traced the shell of his ear before biting down—just shy of pain—and Ben’s cock twitched against Mac’s thigh. “Quit teasing,” Ben growled, twisting to catch Mac’s lips in a messy kiss. Their teeth clicked, tongues tangling, the taste of sweat and chlorine from the water sharp between them.
Mac laughed, low and rough, and let go of Ben’s hips just long enough to grab the soap. The bar was cheap, smelling vaguely of industrial lemons, but Mac’s hands on Ben’s back were anything but impersonal. His thumbs dug into the knots along Ben’s spine, working the lather into his skin with slow, deliberate strokes that had Ben’s shoulders loosening against his will.
"Fuck," Ben muttered, rolling his neck as Mac’s fingers found the tension coiled at the base of his skull. The water sluiced away the suds, revealing the dust-streaked paths Mac’s hands had traced.
Mac’s chuckle vibrated against his shoulder blades. "You’re wound tighter than a spring." His soapy palms slid lower, kneading the meat of Ben’s ass with rough appreciation. "Bet I know how to unwind you."
Ben snorted, twisting to pin Mac against the tiles this time—their wet chests sliding together with a slick sound—and planted a forearm beside Mac’s head. "Prove it." The challenge hung between them, thick as the steam curling off their bodies. Water streamed down Mac’s face, catching in the stubble along his jaw before dripping onto Ben’s collarbone.
Mac grinned lazily, his hands sliding up Ben’s ribs to thumb at his nipples, rolling the stiff peaks until Ben’s breath hitched. "Oh, I will." He squatted suddenly, catching Ben’s cock in his mouth without warning—hot, wet suction that punched a groan from Ben’s throat. The shower spray hit Mac’s back in rivulets, sluicing down the furrows of muscle as he worked Ben with ruthless focus.
Ben’s fingers tangled in Mac’s wet hair, not guiding, just anchoring himself as his knees threatened to buckle. Mac’s tongue swirled around the head before plunging down again, taking him deeper, his throat working around Ben’s girth with practiced ease. The scrape of stubble against Ben’s thighs sent sparks up his spine—no teeth, just the rough, delicious friction of it.
Steam coiled around them, the water turning properly hot now, scalding where it hit Ben’s shoulders. He could feel Mac humming around him, the vibration traveling straight to his balls, and his hips jerked forward without permission. Mac grunted, but didn’t pull away, just dug his fingers harder into Ben’s ass, urging him deeper.
The soap slipped from Ben’s grip, bouncing off the tub floor with a wet slap. He barely noticed. His thighs trembled, his pulse hammering in his temples. Mac’s nose pressed against his stomach, his breath hot and ragged through flared nostrils. Ben’s grip tightened in Mac’s hair—not pulling, just holding on as the pleasure coiled tighter, molten and inevitable.
Mac’s hand slid between Ben’s legs, thick fingers massaging his perineum with just enough pressure to make Ben’s vision blur. The dual sensation—wet heat and blunt pressure—had his hips stuttering forward. A warning grunt escaped him, but Mac only dug in harder, his other hand slipping around to grip Ben’s ass cheek, spreading him slightly. The possessive knead of those calloused fingers was almost as good as the suction around his cock.
Ben’s thighs shook, water sluicing down his clenched abs. He could feel his orgasm building like a storm surge—inevitable, brutal. The tiles were slick under his palms, his fingers scrabbling for purchase as Mac hollowed his cheeks and swallowed around him. The vibration of Mac’s groan traveled straight to Ben’s balls, and that was it—his back arched violently as he spilled his hot semen down Mac’s throat with a ragged shout.
Mac swallowed once, twice, before pulling off with a wet pop, his chin glistening. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, grinning up at Ben through the steam. “There’s your proof,” he rasped, his voice wrecked. The shower spray darkened his hair to near-black, droplets clinging to his lashes as he stood with a series of knee pops.
Ben sagged against the tiles, his chest heaving. Water sluiced down his trembling thighs, swirling around the drain in soapy spirals. Mac’s hands—still soap-slick—rubbed slow circles into his hip bones, thumbs pressing into the divots there. The touch was almost grounding.
"Fuck," Ben managed, his voice raw. His fingers twitched where they were still tangled in Mac’s hair. The man’s scalp was warm under his palm, damp curls clinging to his fingers. Mac chuckled, the sound vibrating through Ben’s oversensitive cock where it rested against Mac’s collarbone.
Mac rose slowly, his knees protesting audibly, and crowded Ben back under the spray. The water rinsed away the last traces of soap and sweat, leaving their skin flushed and steaming. Ben braced his hands on Mac’s shoulders, his thumbs brushing the thick tendons of the man’s neck. Mac’s cock pressed insistently against Ben’s hip, hot and heavy—clearly not done yet.
Their mouths collided messily, teeth knocking, tongues tangling without finesse. Mac tasted like salt and chlorine, his stubble scraping Ben’s chin raw. Ben groaned into the kiss, his fingers digging into Mac’s back hard enough to leave crescents. Water sluiced between their bodies, pooling where their chests pressed together, every ragged breath syncing like they were sharing the same air.
Mac broke away first, pulling at Ben’s lower lip with his teeth before pulling back to smirk. His eyes were dark, pupils blown wide despite the harsh bathroom light. Without a word, he spun Ben roughly, pressing him face-first against the slick tiles. Ben’s breath fogged the porcelain as Mac’s hands mapped his flanks—slow, proprietary strokes that made his skin prickle.
The showerhead’s spray hit Ben’s shoulder blades, water cascading down the furrows of his back before Mac’s broad palms followed the same path, pushing the droplets aside. Ben shuddered when Mac’s thumbs dug into the dimples above his ass, the pressure just shy of painful. “Still got stamina, old man?” Mac murmured against the nape of Ben’s neck, his breath hot compared to the lukewarm water.
Ben huffed a laugh, flexing against the tiles. “Try me.”
Mac’s answering growl vibrated through Ben’s back as those rough hands spread his cheeks with no pretense of gentleness. The sudden press of Mac’s tongue against his hole drew a ragged groan from Ben—wet heat spearing into him, relentless. Ben’s forearms braced against the shower wall, muscles corded as Mac worked him open with lips and teeth and filthy, sucking kisses that left his thighs shaking. Water sluiced down Ben’s spine, mingling with Mac’s spit, the dual sensation maddening.
“Christ,” Ben gritted out, his fingers scrabbling against slick tile. Mac’s answering hum was smug, the vibration traveling straight to Ben’s prostate. He arched back into the sensation, his cock jerking against his stomach, already half-hard again despite his earlier release.
Mac pulled away just long enough to slick two fingers with soap—cheap lemon scent clinging to the steam—before pressing in with no warning. Ben hissed at the stretch, his body clamping down instinctively before forcing himself to relax. Mac’s fingers curled, dragging against his inner walls in a way that had Ben seeing stars. “Fuck,” he panted, forehead pressed to the shower wall. “You—ah—still got those thick fucking fingers.”
“Mm.” Mac’s chuckle was dark as he scissored them, the soap making the glide obscenely easy. His free hand pawed at Ben’s hip, holding him steady as he worked a third finger in with ruthless efficiency. Water cascaded over Ben’s shoulders, dripping from his nose and chin as Mac’s knuckles nudged his prostate with every thrust.
Ben’s thighs trembled, knees threatening to buckle. “Goddamn—” He bit his forearm to muffle a groan when Mac twisted his wrist, stretching him wider. The tiles were slick under his palms, his fingers scrambling for purchase. Mac’s breath was a hot brand against his lower back, stubble rasping over sweat-slick skin.
“Hold still,” Mac rumbled, nipping at the swell of Ben’s ass before withdrawing his fingers with a filthy squelch. The soapy scent of lemons clung to the steam as Mac pressed close, his erection nudging Ben’s entrance with deliberate pressure. Ben braced—then gasped when Mac shoved in halfway with one brutal thrust, filling him in a single, searing stretch. “Fuck, you’re tight,” Mac gritted out, hips stuttering forward to bury himself to the hilt.
The tiles dug into Ben’s palms as Mac set a punishing pace, each snap of his hips driving Ben’s shoulders into the shower wall. Water sluiced between their bodies, mixing with the sweat slicking their skin. Mac’s grip on Ben’s hips was ironclad, his thumbs digging bruises into bone as he fucked into him with animalistic grunts.
Ben’s knuckles whitened against the porcelain, his breath coming in ragged bursts that fogged the tile. Every thrust sent sparks up his spine, Mac’s cock dragging against his prostate with merciless precision. The shower spray hit his back in erratic bursts, alternating between scalding and icy as the pipes groaned in protest.
Mac’s teeth sank into Ben’s trapezius—not hard enough to bleed, just enough to brand—and Ben arched into it with a strangled curse. The sting grounded him, sharp counterpoint to the overwhelming fullness between his thighs. Mac growled approval against his skin, one hand sliding around to fist Ben’s cock in rough strokes that matched his thrusts.
Water sprayed sideways as Mac slammed him harder into the wall, their bodies meeting with wet slaps that drowned out the shower’s rattle. Ben’s vision blurred at the edges, pleasure coiling like live wire. He could feel Mac’s balls tightening against his ass, the man’s breath coming in ragged bursts against his shoulder blade. “Gonna—fuck—” Mac bit out, his rhythm fracturing.
Ben twisted his neck, catching Mac’s mouth in a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss just as the man’s hips stuttered. Mac groaned into his lips, his release pulsing hot inside Ben as his grip turned vice-like. The sensation—thick, claiming—drove Ben over seconds later, streaks of sperm splattering the tiles as his knees gave out. Mac caught him by the waist, hauling him upright against his heaving chest while the water sluiced their mess down the drain.
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